


Cordycept Soup for The Mictlan Soul

by Grimmalkerie



Category: No Evil (Web Series)
Genre: Crack Fic, Drabble, Ficlet, Gen, Oneshot, Platonic Female/Male Relationships, emphasis on platonic, mictlan trio, some of these require context I am so sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-07-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:17:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8669143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grimmalkerie/pseuds/Grimmalkerie
Summary: A collection of fictlets and character studies concerning the Mictlan Trio. Containing but not limited to: Charles's inability to grow facial hair, everyone is gay for the triplets, and grumpy Amaroq. Can't forget about him. Contains the odd crackfic. Genres depend.





	1. Concerning Charles

**Author's Note:**

> (Title is a reference to this tumblr post http://f-yeah-no-evil.tumblr.com/post/151899649170/ladyarcher2020-f-yeah-no-evil)

There are some things in this world that are completely unnecessary. 

 

Pants that have both buttons and belt loops... feuding villages...pretty much all of Hollow….

 

And there were some things that were. Necessary that is. Completely that is.

 

That’s just basic information, he knows that. He’s been over it a thousand times in his head, has separated everything and anything that moves, that blinks, that breathes. He has divided things into lists, and sublists and sub- sublists. Good and evil. Necessary and unnecessary. 

 

For instance, he knows what he’s doing is right. He knows it is necessary. And it’s not like he’s not willing to compromise? Like he hasn’t compromised so much already? 

 

Alright. Alright okay so they can’t quite help it. He sees the way they look at each other, how they can’t put aside their differences for five minutes, but he honestly wonders how anyone could be this ignorant? 

 

He gets it. People are too stupid to know what’s best for them. They make mistakes. They’re imperfect.  Human. Whatever. 

 

Dumb mistakes. Yeah no, he gets it.

 

But seriously? 

 

Seriously?

 

It’s like they want their lives to be meaningless. They were practically begging for him to step in.

 

There is nothing more necessary and satisfying and complete and perfect and right and good and- and certain, and he can see it in Xochipilli’s eyes that he doesn’t quite see the same way and it confuses Charles because he should. He should and he will and if he’d just stop with that, that look, and playing the victim, maybe he’d actually cooperate and maybe Charles would actually get something done.

 

So he doesn’t quite hesitate.It’s not like he had time to hesitate. He’s waited for the perfect moment after all, and it’s not every day that a spirit just waltzes right into arm’s length, practically  _ begging _ for him to steal his tezcatlipoca piece. It’s practically sitting there, idle and useless and completely and utterly unnecessary.

 

So no. he doesn’t hesitate. He’s never hesitated and he probably never will. He’s always been certain after all, not like some dumb monkey could have changed things for even a second.  
  
  


But he could have.

  
And maybe that’s almost worse.


	2. Concerning Facial Hair

It takes three weeks but Charles does it: he grows the perfect ‘stache. It is thick and bushy and it ages him up  _ at least _ a decade. He looks dashing. Adult. Angel even calls it the most handsome three hairs she has ever seen.

 

He stares at his reflection and smiles smugly, stroking the hairs softly with his finger and wondering, briefly, if he should grow a beard too. Nothing says mature and powerful like facial hair and it's not like he couldn't pull it off.

  
The next day, Amaroq hands him a razor. It is covered in rust.


	3. Concerning Angel

 

There weren’t any flowers in Mictlan wood. There was Angel, who was sort of like a flower and sort of like a weed (depending on who you asked) but not really much of either, and there were trees and rocks and things of that nature, (pun completely intended) but flowers themselves were lacking. 

 

Mictlan wasn’t the place for flowers. Wasn’t the place for spirits either- flower or otherwise. 

 

Mictlan was for the dead, and the in-between. It was home for chupacabra skeletons and scraps of fabric and charred beings. It was home for dolls and tea cups and horrific things too terrible to name. Guttural things. Beautiful things. 

 

Still it was home, and sometimes home can seem terrifying and horrific to those who don’t quite belong.

 

Xochiquetzal clearly didn’t. Wasn’t so much as quite, so much as absolutely in-no-way should ever set foot inside its shadowy borders.

 

How she even managed to get in was a mystery in of itself. People don't just waltz into Mictlan and they certainly don’t fly in with lutes and butterflies, even if they are flower empresses. 

 

_ Especially _ if they are flower empresses. It’s one part infuriating and another part captivating, and a few other parts exciting because they so rarely get guests, that Angel allows it. Plus this is what Charles wants and as much as he's a guest in Mictlan, he’s the one pulling the strings so what he says goes.

 

(Mictlan has never wanted to spit out something as much as it wants Charles, but that kid doesn't seem to be able to take a hint. It's like lice or ringworm or something. Keeps coming back.)

 

So Xochiquetzal is flittering around Mictlan and both Amaroq and Charles are chasing her, and then there’s Angel who is sort of just watching.

 

Naturally she’s enthralled. She’s always liked pretty things and pretty people, and if she had her way, Xochiquetzal would never ever leave. Which is a bit of a shame really, because Xochiquetzal is trying really, really hard to leave and Mictlan is trying just as hard to spit her out.

 

Lucky for both Mictlan and Xochiquetzal, Charles gets bored quickly. He chases her around Mictlan for a bit and corners her and watches her squirm, then bows dramatically and lets her leave. She stares at him and the butterfly in her hand, then vanishes. 

 

Even her exits are mesmerizing. 

 

It sticks with Angel. That pretty monkey and her pretty siblings, and her almost-as-pretty-but-not-quite friends. How they laugh, and joke and jump around. How obviously good they are. Benign.

 

She looks at them, frozen in stone and so obviously not-happy, then at Charles who so obviously is.

 

Mictlan isn’t bad. It isn’t good, and it’s not a place one wants to be stuck after dark but it isn’t evil. And neither is Charles, then, as far as Angel is concerned. After all if he can manage to worm himself into Mictlan, as beautifully grey and morose, and as perfect as it is, may be he’s doing the right thing after all.

 

Besides. They aren’t dead. Charles would never kill anyone, and he means so well, that it’s got to be the right thing. The greater good, he says. It’s for the best, he says. 

 

(Mictlan might want Charles gone but Angel certainly doesn’t. How could she? He’s practically her best friend.)

 

So maybe she doesn't question it.

 

So maybe she doesn't quite want to, not with the answers provided for her in a nice, neat little bow 

 

Answers she likes anyways.

 

Angel enjoys pretty truths almost as much as she lives pretty people and things, and although Charles isn't the prettiest truth for her to believe, she loves it much more than the alternative.

 

Almost at least.

  
After all, flowers have the nasty habit of taking root in places they shouldn’t.


	4. Unfinished

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat crackfic ramblings that will never be anything more than a few sentences. Have fun!

 

Charles seems to collect frozen monkeys like some people collect shoes or cool rocks.  The two don't seem to be that different in his eyes. A frozen monkey is a little like a cool rock anyways so it’s somewhat valid after all, and the frozen monkeys themselves don’t seem to mind that much. Besides, Charles seems to treat them oh so lovingly, blankets wrapped around their shoulders and a good dusting every now and then, polishing them shiny enough to see his reflection.

Angel doesn’t mind, and they aren’t really dead anyways so it’s completely okay. Except she’s sort of not allowed to touch them. Or really get near them? So maybe it’s only a little okay. Or not at all because they’re still trapped.

Okay so maybe it’s super creepy.

Okay so maybe this kid needs some parental guidance. 


End file.
